


Cold, Broken

by earthseraph



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blink And You'll Miss It Civil War Spoiler, Bucky Dies But Not Really, Fluff and Angst, Ft. Bucky's Grave Getting A New Empty Box, I swear this has a happy ending, Like Honestly It's Really Tiny Nothing Important, M/M, Medical Hand Waving, Nicky Fury Is A Sneaky Snake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6615922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthseraph/pseuds/earthseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There he is,” Bucky brings a hand up again, not quite touching Steve’s face until Steve presses his hand to his cheek, blood coating the skin. He’s not giving up on Bucky, no, but he knows full and well when a wound can’t be healed in the field. He knows when to stop trying to save and start saying the goodbyes he might not get to say later.</p><p>“Here I am,” Steve says, he pulls Bucky in closer, whispering sorry when Bucky groans, and kisses his forehead. It’s sweaty with matted hair, it’s cooling with blood loss, but it’s Bucky’s flesh, it’s Bucky’s soul. Nothing can change that. Not death, not unfound memories, not years of pain and time. Nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold, Broken

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [Opeggycarter](http://opeggycarter.tumblr.com/), I hope you enjoy it!

It hurts to watch a friend die. Completely useless, unable to do anything, for the second time.

Steve should be used to it. He should have seen this coming, but he didn’t and it _hurts_.

X

“Buck, stay with me!” Steve yells, frantic, desperate as he kneels in the tarmac’s rubble, Bucky in his lap bleeding to death, “Stay with me!”

Bucky brings a sluggish hand up to Steve’s face, touching his cheek with bloody fingers, it cools the moment Bucky’s hand slides off- too weak for anything more than a touch- “Stevie,” he says, voice slurred, but there’s a small smile on his lips that Steve can’t place. 

“I’m here, Buck,” he presses his hands to the quick bleeding wound in Bucky’s abdomen, putting as much pressure has he can without breaking any bones in Bucky’s body. The last thing he wants to do is hurt Bucky even more than he is now.

“Stevie,” Bucky says once more, “lookit’ me.”

Steve looks up into Bucky’s eyes, hands slipping from the wet blood on leather, tears catching on his eyelashes.

“I don’t want my last time seein’ ya to be with Captain America, I wan’ it to be with my Stevie, can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, holding Bucky close with the hand soaked in blood, “I can do that.” He pulls off his cowl and throws it against the tarmac, ignoring the fact that there’s still a team full of superbeings wanting to kill him. Ignoring the fact that he’s putting himself in danger because this is Bucky. He has and will do anything for Bucky, that won’t ever change.

“There he is,” Bucky brings a hand up again, not quite touching Steve’s face until Steve presses his hand to his cheek, blood coating the skin. He’s not giving up on Bucky, no, but he knows full and well when a wound can’t be healed in the field. He knows when to stop trying to save and start saying the goodbyes he might not get to say later.

“Here I am,” Steve says, he pulls Bucky in closer, whispering sorry when Bucky groans, and kisses his forehead. It’s sweaty with matted hair, it’s cooling with blood loss, but it’s Bucky’s flesh, it’s Bucky’s soul. Nothing can change that. Not death, not lost memories, not years of pain and time. Nothing.

Bucky hums, it’s a quiet thing, it’s a fragile thing, it’s something Steve will hold in his heart, “You know I love you?” Bucky asks, his eyes are almost shut, the blood’s stopped flowing as fast, his voice is soft.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve whispers, because he does, since the summer of ‘33, since he came back months ago, since Steve started a war with his friends over him, “I love you too Buck.” He can tell Bucky’s grasping at thin air, at what little life he has left, holding on to nothing for him, and it kills Steve. 

He pulls Bucky in a fraction closer, wishing and praying to God that there was a medic. That Sam was near enough, that this war didn’t happen, that Bucky wasn’t hurt so badly he has to pull life from nothing, make his heart beat despite the fact that it no longer wants to. So he hold him close, presses his lips to Bucky’s forehead, and says: “You can let go, Buck, go to Heaven and tell the family ‘hi’ for me. You don’t gotta’ hold on any longer.”

Steve can hear someone land behind him and hunches closer over Bucky. Protecting him in his dying breaths.

“I can?” Bucky mumbles, his eyes shut, his breathing shallow.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, choking back tears because he needs to be strong for Bucky, “let go, Buck.”

It takes seconds, fast like a whisper, for Bucky to go. Seconds until his chest stops moving and his mouth parts with it’s last breath. Seconds for Steve to clutch his best friend, his lover’s, lifeless body to his chest and let out the sobs he’s been holding since he found Bucky bleeding out on the airport runway. He doesn’t care who hears him, who’s behind him, he just needs to mourn. To mourn like he never has before, like he never got to years ago when this happened for the first time. He cries until there’s no more tears, sobs until his throat is sore and no sound comes out. Until he can’t cry or sob or wail any more. Until Bucky’s body is cold save for the heat he radiates against Bucky’s side. Until a voice speaks up behind him.

“It wasn’t worth it.” Tony says, his voice is tired and Steve wants to lash out. He wants to scream at Tony that it’s too late because Bucky’s blood is on his hands. Not Steve’s, not anyone else’s on Tony’s team, but his. He wants to show Tony the pain that he gave Bucky, but he can’t. He can’t because he’s protecting Bucky’s body, because it’s still in his lap and clutched to his chest. He can’t because Tony has Pepper waiting for him at home and Steve knows how it feels to lose a lover. He _can’t_.

“I need to take his body home,” Steve says, mindless, uncaring to the war because it’s over. Tony won. He got what he wanted: Bucky’s death. 

“Okay.” It’s a new voice: Sam’s. “We can do that.”

He hears someone come around him and looks up to see Sam kneeling on the ground, there’s tears on his cheeks and rage in his eyes. He places his hand atop of where Steve’s is resting against Bucky’s head, “Let’s take him home.”

Steve nods shakily, rearranges his hold on Bucky’s body and stands, holding Bucky in a bridal carry, wishing he could pretend that Bucky was just asleep and not dead. Sam places a hand against his back to steady him, “The jet’s not too far.”

“The rest of the team?” Steve asks because he’s still the leader, he’s still Captain America, and he needs to know how everyone else is doing. He needs something good to come out of today.

“We’re okay.” Wanda says, now at his side, her voice is rough.

Steve spares her a glance and nods. No external injuries from what he can tell but there’s tears on her eyes. Another brother lost in battle.

“Just a few scrapes here and there,” Clint says, now jogging ahead of them, probably to the jet since he’s the only one that can fly it.

“Yeah,” Scott says, now in his larger form, no longer riding on Clint’s shoulder, “might need a new suit.”

Sam snorts, “We all always need new suits.”

Steve knows Sam’s trying to lighten the mood, and appreciates it. He does, but right now he feels void of emotion, right now his best friend’s dead body is in his arms. Right now, all he wants to do is not exist.

“They will let us go without a fight?” Wanda asks, her hands are glowing red, like she’s ready to protect them.

“They got what they wanted,” Steve says quietly, he holds Bucky tighter, “Bucky’s-” he swallows back a sob and clears his throat, “Bucky’s gone, that’s all they wanted out of this.”

Wanda nods, her hands still glowing, “I am truly sorry for your loss,” she sighs, touches a no longer glowing hand to the crown of Bucky’s head, “I wish it did not have to come to this.”

“Me too,” Steve whispers, “me too.”

They make it to the jet without anyone attacking them. With nothing more than an easy stride. 

Steve lays Bucky’s body across one of the benches and takes the sheet Scott offers him. He lays it over Bucky’s body, kneeling momentarily to pray for his soul- something he hasn’t done since before the war but something he remembers his Ma’ doing for him and him doing for his Ma’- before taking the seat by Bucky’s head and placing a hand against his forehead.

He ignores the blood on his own hands. He ignores the blood soaking through the sheet. He ignores the uneasy silence, the quiet crying he hears around him, and closes his eyes before leaning his head against the wall of the jet.

Time to go home.

X

The funeral was nice. It’s in Arlington, a body now in the once empty grave of Bucky’s.

At first Steve was unsure as to whether or not the government would give Bucky his rightful funeral. If they’d still consider him a threat to the United States or a traitor to the country. But when he approached the military personnel about the funeral, they told him Bucky was a soldier, a prisoner of war, and he’d be honored as such. And he was. Flag over a closed casket, gunmen shooting off at the call, a priest praying over his wood encased body. They even gave Steve a flag, folded into a triangle, it was all the military could ever give families of fallen soldiers. 

Not many people came to the funeral, but enough that it warmed something in Steve’s heart. Everyone that didn’t think Bucky was an enemy came, they laid white roses over his closed casket, they prayed with the priest, and paid their respects. Steve didn’t cry, no, he didn’t have any tears left to shed, but held Wanda close when she came up to him after the funeral. He squeezed Sam’s shoulder when he shed his own tears during the funeral, and shook T'challa’s hand when he gave his apologies. 

It was a nice funeral. 

Steve looks down at the neatly packed dirt, before looking up at Bucky’s tombstone. It’s still the old one from all those years ago, but with a new set of years etched into the stone, just like Steve’s will be when he dies. Steve sighs and presses a hand against the cold stone, it’s all he has left of Bucky now- this stone- and he intends on taking care of it to the best of his ability. 

“Hey, Cap.”

Steve turns around at the sound of Clint’s voice, “Clint.” He honestly just wants to be alone with Bucky right now.

Clint nods back to where Laura stands with their kids, she smiles sadly at Steve, “The kids miss you and Laura could use a hand around the house while I get shipped of to fuck knows where.”

“I’m not sure I’d be good company, right now.” Steve says, looking back at the stone then up to Clint’s family, “I don’t think I’d be good company at all, honestly.”

“Well,” Clint claps him on the shoulder, pushing him slightly, “I’m never good company and Laura married me, so you should be just fine.”

“Clint-”

“How old are you, Steve? Biologically, no ice years.”

“Thirty,” he’s not sure where this is going, “what does that matter?”

“It matters,” Clint says, squeezing his shoulder again, “because that means I’m older than you, which means you have to listen to me ‘cause we’re basically brothers, now go live on my farm while I’m in the buttfuck of Africa, keep the wife and kids company, and don’t go wallow in your very empty apartment.”

Steve lets out a resigned sigh. He wouldn’t mind going to live with Laura for a little while. She’s a nice lady, doesn’t pry, but has knowing words like his mother did. It would also be a nice change of scenery, they have enough space to house the entire Avengers so they definitely have enough to house him. He could stay there while the government and SHIELD figure themselves out, just until Clint comes back, and then he’d be off either on a sanctioned mission or one of his own.

“Okay,” Steve nods, he looks down at Bucky’s stone, it’s what Bucky would want for him, to be with people who care while he mourns, “I’ll go.”

Clint grins, “Good choice, now come on, it’s a long drive.”

X

By the time they get to Clint’s farm day’s breaking. The kids are sleeping with Laura in the back seat of Clint’s pick-up, but he’s wide awake. The whole ride he stayed mostly quiet, laughing when he was supposed to at one of the kid’s joke, taking over the wheel when Clint asked to switch, but kept to himself. The Barton’s gave him his space, allowing him to stay inside his head for the drive, not expecting him to be in tip-top shape after burying his best friend.

He’s grateful for that, and he’s grateful that they’re offering him their home. He’s grateful.

Steve steps out of the truck and groans, stretching his muscles and bones from the seated position they’ve been in for the past ten or more hours. He’s still in the suit he wore to Bucky’s funeral, but the tie’s in his pocket and the first few buttons are undone, and he honestly can’t wait to take these dress shoes off. He may be Captain America, but he’s still human and dress shoes will hurt no matter what.

“Well,” Clint says, standing beside him in front of the house, “this is your home for the next couple ’a months.”

Steve nods, breathing in the fresh air of the country, “Thank you, and Laura.” He motions to where she’s taking the kids in one by one, “I mean it, thanks.”

“No problem,” Clint kicks at the ground for a moment before sighing and turning to look at Steve, “look Steve, when you go in there- what you see- might shock you.”

Steve frowns, tearing his eyes away from the stars- he hasn’t been able to take them in since he’s always on mission and the light pollution from the city always drowns them out- to look down at Clint, “What?”

“Just-” Clint sighs roughly and rubs his face with his hands, “go inside and try not to hate me, okay? I owed Fury some favors and you know how that goes.”

Steve eyes the porch and the open door, looking back at Clint before taking the first wooden step up. He moves to the side when Laura comes out, heading back to the truck for the other two kids, but continues his slow walk inside. He’s not sure what to expect, what might make him hate Clint or shock him when he gets inside the house, but this is Clint. Clint’s been something like his friend- _brothers_ Clint had said earlier- since they first fought together, he and Laura hit it off when they met during the whole Ultron situation. Clint isn’t the kind of person to mess with him.

“Go to the kitchen,” Laura says, passing by him in the house with a sleeping child, she has a grin on her face that looks like it hurts and Steve isn’t sure what to do.

He pauses in the foyer, watching her go up the stairs to the bedrooms before he pulls himself together and makes his way into the kitchen. Steve feels his heart skip a beat, shock runs through his stomach, a gasp leaves his mouth when he sees the figure in the kitchen because-- because-

“Bucky?” He whispers his name, a hand reaching out to the man who can’t be alive, who he just buried, _who died in his arms_ , “How? How’re you-” Steve closes his eyes and breathes in, “You’re not real, this is fake, it’s happened before, I’m just--”

“Stevie,” the ghost says and Steve can’t open his eyes, he can’t move his hand away from his face, he can’t give in to the hallucination, “I’m real Stevie, I’m here, I’m alive.”

He can hear a kitchen chair scrape back against the wooden floors, the sound of feet sticking to the floor as they make their way in front of Steve. He can feel hands coming to rest at his hips, fingers drumming against his clothed shirt. He can smell lavender and mint, like shampoo and gum. All his senses are picking him up but he can’t be real, he died, Steve was there, Steve felt his heart stop, Steve took him to get an autopsy, Steve--

“Can you look at me? Please?”

“What if I open my eyes and you disappear?” It’s happened before and Steve doesn’t know what he’ll do if it happens again. 

“I won’t,” the voice says with a laugh, hands on his hips rising to pull him in closer, “now look at me, Stevie.”

Steve opens his eyes slowly, fear rolling through his body instead of shock, fear that the hallucination will be gone and Steve will have nothing left. But instead, when Steve opens his eyes, Bucky’s still there in front of him. He looks pale and tired, his hair’s a bit shorter than the last time Steve saw it, but there’s a smile on his face and happiness dancing in his eyes and Steve just doesn’t understand.

“How- how are you still alive?” Steve drops his hands to Bucky’s body, feeling the warm muscle through his shirt, feeling the cold metal of his left arm. He pulls up the shirt to look at the space where a scar should be, and sure enough there it is. The scar’s discolored, but healing, there’s a puffed area where stitches once were but are no longer, and Bucky’s not dead. 

“Well, the short story is when you left me in the med bay for an autopsy Fury was there and knew a way to keep me alive- and, no, I don’t know what he did to keep me alive.” Bucky says with a shrug, like it’s nothing, like this is a daily occurrence. 

Steve pulls Bucky into a hug, careful with his healing wound, “I thought you were dead.”

Bucky hugs him back, arms wrapped tight around his waist, “Me, too, pal.”

“I thought I’d never get to see you again,” Steve gasps, tears he didn’t shed today finally making an appearance, streaming hot down his face.

“But I’m here,” Bucky whispers, squeezing him tighter, holding him closer, “I’m here, and I ain’t leaving again, okay?”

“Promise?” Steve asks. It’s a stupid thing to ask Bucky promise. One Bucky can’t keep if something happens, one Steve wishes he himself could keep. It’s not something to promise, not something to even ask for, in their line of work- if they continue it. It’s something Steve should know not to ask, but here he is anyways. Needing an answer from Bucky like it will clear the past two weeks up. Like it will make everything different and solidify Bucky’s soul on this earth.

“Promise,” Bucky says into his shoulder, “told you to the end of the line, didn’t I? And my line just ain’t up yet, neither is yours.”

Steve nods, taking in a deep breath, deeper than he could before, like the passage oxygen takes to his lungs is finally cleared, like all Bucky had to do was promise and everything became okay, “I’m so glad your back.” Steve repeats, just holding on.

“I’m glad you’re okay, pal, been concerned that you were gonna’ do something stupid while I had to be dead.”

“What,” Steve asks, still holding on, “like putting a plane into the Arctic?”

Bucky snorts, holding on just the same, “Yeah, like putting a plane into the Arctic.”

“I guess I somehow knew your line wasn’t over, lasted this long without doing anything stupid.” Steve pulls back slightly, just to look in Bucky’s eyes, “But, seriously, I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t actually alive, you’re half my soul, Buck.”

“You’re half my soul, too,” Bucky says, hands coming up to cup Steve’s face, warm and cool from the skin and metal, “which is why no matter whatever happens to me, you need to stay alive got it?”

“I- I--” Steve presses lips together and looks away from Bucky. How can he promise something he might not be able to keep?

“I promised you not to leave, so you need to do the same for me.” Bucky catches his eyes, “You need _try_ to do the same for me, I need that peace of mind.”

Steve sighs and nods, resigned because Bucky’s right, he owes him that, “I promise.”

“Thank you,” Bucky says, lowering his hands to pull Steve back into a hug, “now, how about we utilize that room they set up for us? Have some peace and quiet on this farm until we absolutely have to go back to the real world?”

Steve chuckles, and sniffs back the tears- they’re happy this time- “Farmer Rogers does have a ring to it.”

“So does farmer Barnes.” Bucky says with a nod, “Now, bed?”

“Yeah,“ Steve says, the exhaustion finally heavy in his body because he’s finally able to relax, “let's go to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://pesmenos.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Reblogable fic post](http://pesmenos.tumblr.com/post/143171310045/cold-broken-by-earthseraph-pesmenos-for)


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